


so kiss me where i lay down my hands pressed to your cheeks

by transstevebucky



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (kind of like if you search really hard and in between the lines), Angst, Don't Villainize Eleanor In Fic 2k15, Face Sitting, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, I ALSO LOVE FACE SITTING, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Rimming, Smut, don't read into things that aren't there, i love rimming, louis loves eleanor he also loves harry it's cool, polysexual!louis, powerbottom!Louis, queer!harry, the eleanor/louis IS NOT NEGATIVE, there's kind of d/s themes in there but I am too lazy to flesh it out honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 19:36:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3085895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transstevebucky/pseuds/transstevebucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“She is. Really lovely, like, when I first got her, she couldn’t stop petting my legs or my face, and she never leaves me alone.” Harry’s gut pangs when he realises the same could be said about Louis, when they first met, when he never stopped playing with Harry’s hair or stroking his face or pressing kisses to the backs of his knees.</p><p>Louis looks up at him, and his eyes are dark, like when they used to fuck in the bunks on the Up All Night tour.</p><p>“Yeah? Know someone else like that?” Louis asks, before slowly moving his hand around to Harry’s calf, and Harry swallows, knees beginning to shake slightly. It’s been –so long since they last did this, since they last touched each other like this, almost a year. </p><p>or</p><p>the one where harry's in love with his best friend and they fuck it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so kiss me where i lay down my hands pressed to your cheeks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jzayn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jzayn/gifts).



> title from 18 by one direction because larry is real and it is out there. that line in particular was made for rimming purposes.  
> don't share this with anyone affiliated with one direction. 
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> [tumblr post](http://sstylinshaw.tumblr.com/post/111078685595/blushingtomlinstyles-so-kiss-me-where-i-lay)
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> gifted to ida because i love them so much my heart bursts with it. in your case, tiny peaches, 100% romo.

Back in the X Factor house, Harry used to climb all over Louis. Louis used to do it back, too, would grin and smile and press gentle kisses against Harry’s clammy skin and get him asking _what if what if what if_. Back then, when Harry was sixteen and Louis was eighteen, back when there were soft, gentle kisses and no freak-outs from their constant proximity, Harry had been so, so in love with him. He had been desperate for Louis’ attention, nearly stopped breathing every time Louis gave him the time of day; he was so, so gone for him, and maybe that was why this hurt so much.

The words are everywhere, though, and Harry can feel bile crawling up his throat, anxiety clawing at his chest in a way it hasn’t since they performed Madison Square Garden. He’s just so, so tired, and so, so _sad_.

**_Louis Tomlinson ENGAGED; yes, for real this time!_ **

If Harry felt less sick, if he could breathe properly, he might laugh at the idea of newspapers having to make sure it sounded real, because God knows over the past four years it’s seemed nothing but. God knows Harry’s as queer as they come, that’s not anything shocking, but what _is_ shocking is the idea Louis didn’t even tell him he was going to get engaged. His best mate hadn’t even fucking texted him, like, _oh, by the way, I’m popping the question_. And _that_. That burned, the idea Louis couldn’t even tell Harry about the biggest step in his and Eleanor’s relationship. Harry had heard so many stories of his sex life, of his and Eleanor’s fucking _sex life_ , but Louis didn’t even have the fucking courtesy to shoot Harry a heads up when he was choosing to fucking _marry_ the girl.

And, of course, at precisely that moment, Harry’s phone starts singing Louis’ verse in No Control (the ringtone Harry set for him, not because he was hopelessly in love with him and his voice or anything. Nope. Not Harry Styles.)

Harry shakily answers, because he might be angry and he might be sad, but he’s never denied Louis anything.

“Yeah, Lou?” Harry’s voice is steadier than he expected it to be, and he’s numbly proud before remembering that _Louis is engaged_ and Harry is officially _never going to get to snog him again._

“Have you seen the papers?” Louis’s voice is wary, soft, and Harry hates him, because of course Louis is wary and soft and everything sweet and fucking nice when Harry’s whole life is flashing before his fucking eyes. Jesus _fuck_.

“Yeah, yeah, I have,” Harry manages to choke out, and it’s clipped as all hell, but at least it’s words, “so you’re getting married, then.” It’s not a question any more, like it used to be. It isn’t a joke anymore, because Harry is in love with his best friend and Louis is in love with someone else.

Louis chokes out a laugh, of all things, and Harry tries his best not to start crying.

“What?” Louis's voice is high, pitchy and lovely as fucking always.

“What do you mean what? It’s everywhere! Louis Tomlinson, engaged!” Okay, so Harry’s seen, like, two articles, one of which written by Sugarscape in a very sarcastic tone, but. The point still stands.

Louis starts to laugh, loud and barking, and he’s so lovely, he really is, but is now a time to laugh? Is now, of all times, a time to giggle? Harry’s heart is _breaking_.

“Jesus Christ, Haz, no, I meant the ones about me splitting with El! Those ones about the engagement were released late, and it was never true anyway. Management were asking me to kick it up a notch, y’know, so I just figured I’d drop an anonymous tip in to Sugarscape from ‘a family friend’ about me bein’ seen with an engagement ring. But that was eight months ago. I just _split_ with her.” Which. _Well_. Harry’s been through a lot in the past hour, but this might be the best thing he’s ever heard. Well, from Louis. The best thing he’s ever heard, objectively, was probably the announcement of being put into a band with a really, really hot guy.

“Wait, why would they wait that long?” Harry’s trying to stick to the guidelines, but he’s much too happy to pretend to feel sorry for Louis. He loves him, sure, but Eleanor had always been straight up rude to him, whilst Harry was always nothing but nice. Harry has a feeling that it had something to do with Louis’s ongoing fling with Harry at the beginning of their relationship -and then throughout, mostly on tours but sometimes not. Harry had always felt _awful_ those times, when they hadn't been granted permission by Eleanor to fuck, but Louis had told him ' _no, it's fine, it's alright, no problem!_ ' and Harry had always listened.

“I called management to ask the exact same thing like, an hour ago. She said it had something to do with gay rumours; they asked Sugarscape to wait to drop the article until I started acting ‘a bit gay’ again. Figured now was the right time, because apparently splitting with El makes me gay. Ridiculous, really, because I’m not gay. I wish there were more people on the team who knew what the word polysexual meant.” Louis said, and Harry could _feel_ the eye roll through the phone, the long burning one that always made Harry start to laugh. So he did.

“Fuck, that’s so absurd! What even constitutes being ‘a bit gay’? How can you be a bit gay? Does it mean only your right hand is gay? Does it mean your left hand is gay?” Harry’s practically cackling at this point, imagining a particularly camp right hand going to get some cock whilst the rest of the body goes towards shirtless women. He’s a little bit hysterical, sue him.

Louis starts giggling too, breath coming out in rough gasps, and Harry feels almost heady with it, always feels so proud when he can make Louis laugh.

“Shit, H, I’m meant to be upset, not laughing. I just split with me girlfriend of four years, fucking hell,” Louis sobers up quickly after that, before continuing, “Although, really, she deserves someone who can spend time with her more often. She’s a fantastic girl.” He sounds almost… wistful, like he wanted someone to take over being Eleanor’s boyfriend.

“She is lovely (Harry’s not lying; Eleanor _is_ lovely, just not to him). I’m sorry you split, Lou, I know how happy she made you.” Harry bites his lip at the slow ‘hmm’ Louis lets out.

“Well, you know, we did. But, also, I think I knew it was the end anyway, for a while. She met a bloke, Max, back in Manchester a while ago (Harry remembers. Louis had called him and started crying down the line. It was the worst moment of Harry’s life, probably.) And he treats her _so_ well, better than I ever did. I didn’t do anything for her, I just expected she’d be there when I came home. But Max doesn’t expect anything of her, and she’s well happy to be with him. And I’m happy for her.”

“I’m glad. But, like, you are okay, aren’t you? Not going to do anything stupid?”

“Fuck, no, I’m not depressed or anything. I just wish I could have made her happier. But I actually called to ask you something,” and Harry’s eyes widen, mouth falling open, thinks _this could be it, this could be it, this could be it,_ “can I come over? I wanna get trashed.”

Harry breathes quietly, quells the ache in his tummy, and whispers, “Yes, of course, anything you want.”

***

When Louis gets to his house, Harry’s got a towel wrapped around his waist and a cat purring at his feet. He bought Mittens a month back, just after they got back from tour, because it’s hard to go from being around everyone you love to be around nothing all at once, so now Harry has a fluffy , tabby cat.

“Harry,” Louis begins, locking eyes with Mittens as a smile flits around his mouth, “I wasn’t aware you had company.”

Harry rolls his eyes in response, but almost chokes on his tongue when Louis very slowly sinks to his knees in front of Harry, and begins playing with the cat. Louis’s fingers brush along Harry’s calves, because Mittens never leaves Harry’s side. She arches her back, purring at Louis. Harry knows how she feels.

“Bought her a month ago. Name’s Mittens. Really clingy.” Harry always ends up speaking in clipped sentences when around Louis, is always, always almost incoherent in his presence.

“Hello, Mittens, aren’t you lovely?” Louis croons, scratching along the side of her neck the way she likes (Louis somehow knows everyone’s weak spots immediately upon meeting them. Like how he knew Harry got really, really turned on when people pressed into the backs of his calves in the X Factor, straight after meeting him. It had turned into a game soon after, how riled up Louis could get Harry just by massaging his legs.)

“She is. Really lovely, like, when I first got her, she couldn’t stop petting my legs or my face, and she never leaves me alone.” Harry’s gut pangs when he realises the same could be said about Louis, when they first met, when he never stopped playing with Harry’s hair or stroking his face or pressing kisses to the backs of his knees.

Louis looks up at him, and his eyes are dark, like when they used to fuck in the bunks on the Up All Night tour.

“Yeah? Know someone else like that?” Louis asks, before slowly moving his hand around to Harry’s calf, and Harry swallows, knees beginning to shake slightly. It’s been –so long since they last did this, since they last touched each other like this, almost a year. When Louis had started dating Eleanor, Harry had thought the random fucks would stop, but El had said that she didn’t mind, as long as they were on the road at the time. Better than someone she didn’t know at all. Harry wonders why she treated him so awfully, when he was really doing as he was told.

“Um, um.” Harry is eloquent. He should write books.

“Come on, Haz, nothing quite like a pity shag.” Louis purrs, before sucking a bruise into Harry’s thigh. Harry whines, body trembling, and he’d forgotten how good Louis was in bed, how good he was at completely fucking Harry apart. Harry had almost forgotten how hot it was to watch him tear him apart with foreplay, before completely shaking Louis apart with his tongue and fingers and cock.

“I don’t, nngh, pity you. Just. Fuck. Really wanna fuck you. So mu-fucking hell. Wanna come inside you.” The dirty words fall out of his mouth, and he wants to take them back, forget they ever left his mouth, until he meets Louis’s eyes. The blue of his irises has been swallowed up by the black, and his mouth is shiny and wet with spit. He looks so, so hot, and Harry wants to fuck him until he cries.

“Yes, go, let’s go, quick. Been hard since I got off the phone to you.” Louis is going to be the death of him.

Harry trips and stumbles up the stairs, until Louis begins pinching at the fleshy bits of his thighs, and he starts to run faster, because it’s going to be happening, so, so soon. He’s going to be inside Louis after so long, and he can’t wait.

“On the bed,” It’s rare Harry gets like this, commanding and deep, usually _he’s_ the one being bossed around, but when it comes to Louis, he’s so, _so_ happy to accommodate everything he wants, “lube’s in the top drawer. Start opening yourself up for me. Want to watch.” Louis moans, nodding harshly before he throws himself on the bed, pulling his trousers off and God. His cock, full and pink, leaking against his soft tummy, is so, so pretty.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones when he circles a finger around his rim, spreading his legs wide so Harry can see. Louis’s always has been prettiest when he’s fucking himself. Harry used to watch him get off, not because he wanted some free porn, but because Louis was so _good_ at it, always knew where to press to fuck himself just so. It got him so turned on, getting to watch Louis _wreck_ himself, until pink blossomed on his cheekbones and he was whining, arching his back awkwardly just to press his fingers into the right spots.

“So gorgeous,” Harry whispers, leaning forward, “always so, so pretty.” Louis keens at that, whimpering high in his throat as he presses a second finger in, biting his bottom lip hard as he rocked down onto himself.

It must be driving him mad, knowing that Harry’s head is in between his shaking thighs, knowing he could just wrap them around Harry’s head and he’d eat him out until he’d come so hard he blacked out. It hasn’t happened often, that Louis has let Harry eat him out for that long, but when it does, Harry makes sure to press into him to make him remember.

“Could just eat you out,” Harry ponders, “know you like it. Could just let you ride my face until you come.” 

“Please, please, please, love it, want it. Wanna –uh, uh- fuck myself on your face. Please. Wanna use you.” Harry shakes at that, because Louis _knows_.

When Louis first mentioned it, they’d just finished fucking in their bunk, rehearsals forgotten completely. Louis had held him down and rode him, pressed his fingers over Harry’s wrists and not let Harry move until Louis had come, just used him as a particularly good sex toy. When Louis had mentioned it, how much Harry liked it, liked being used, Harry had nodded and purred, pressing his head into Louis’s tummy, because he didn’t know _why_. He just. He _wanted_ to be used, to be _extorted_. He wanted to feel the humiliation of not really being needed, just being _there_. Being a happy coincidence had never felt as good as it did than with Louis.

“Do it. Louis, please, wanna eat you.” Louis nods, frantic, before pulling his fingers out of himself with a slight wince at the loss.

Harry moves into position, hands curling into his white linen sheets as Louis crawls above him, giving Harry a nice view of his pink, slick hole. Then he drops his weight onto Harry’s face, and Harry moans. The feeling of it, of not being able to breathe quite right and having so much access to such a gorgeous person, is making him feel lightheaded.

“Go on, then,” Louis huffs, impatiently swinging his hips, “fuck me with your mouth.”

And Harry _does_. Goes fucking _wild_ with it, tongue flicking around Louis’s rim at first, before Louis starts bouncing and whining more, more, fuck, more! And who is Harry to decline Louis? So he sucks kisses into Louis’ hole, tongue fucking in and out shallowly, nose pressed to the cleft of Louis’ ass, lungs cramping because, fuck, fuck he can’t breathe. It only gets him hotter. He loves it, loves not having total control over his body, not being able to move under Louis, loves the way Louis bucks down, complains when Harry isn’t doing it right. It’s when Louis rocks slightly backwards and Harry follows that it happens.

When Louis starts gasping wildly, starts panting, and then moans, “I’m so, so in love with you.”

Harry freezes. His whole body goes still, and Louis tries following again at first, before stilling and realizing what he said. And then there’s just. Silence.

“Um,” Louis whispers, and Harry feels his thighs start to tremble where they’re flat against Harry’s shoulders, “um.”

Harry drags his hands away from the sheets, barely even noticing the cramping that’s going on through the haze of _please don’t take that back, please never ever take that back._ He presses his fingers into Louis’ hips, and then licks a broad strip across Louis’ hole. He feels it, from the inside, when Louis starts to come, feels the shake and the tensing and the pull, and white hot heat burns through Harry’s lower abdomen, and then he’s coming, too, rocking his hips up into nothing and moaning wordlessly into Louis’ ass, feels as Louis starts to come down, body going limp.

Harry weakly presses his finger tips into Louis hips, because as much as he loves it, loves being constricted of air, his head’s starting to feel a bit fuzzy.

When Louis moves, starts shifting along the bed, as if to start getting dressed again, Harry flops his head to the side and opens his mouth, hoping words come out. They don’t. He doesn’t know how to speak, any more, doesn’t know if it’s a myth or something like that. But surely Louis can give him some slack, because like, Louis loves him, is in love with him. He can barely do more than smile sweetly as he can with a lube and come slick face, from where Louis dragged backwards and dripped along his cheeks. The thought alone has his mind whirring with possibilities.

“Haz, I’m sorry, I _didn’t_ , “ he looks teary, lip bitten, pink high on his cheekbones from the exertion, “I didn’t _mean_ to say it, I’m _sorry_ , I’ve just. I’ve been so gone for you for so long, and I forgot, I forgot, I’m so sorry, it just. It felt right to say it, and I can leave, if you want, I promise I’ll never talk about it again and we can forget about it, and I’ll move on and you won’t have to deal with me. Please. Please. I don’t want it to get weird, I just. Love you so much, so _so_ much, always have. I couldn’t bear to lose you, not you, too. I don’t want to lose you again. I don’t want you out of my life again. Please.” He _is_ crying now, hiccupping and rambling and shaking, and he’s never looked so beautiful.

The thing is, Harry’s been gone for Louis from the very start. From the second he met him, he knew, knew what it meant when Louis trailed his fingers along his back and pressed kisses into his hair. It meant wait and not yet and one day. And Harry’s beginning to realise, even through his haze of euphoria and orgasm, that this is the day it could happen. That he could finally let himself have Louis, could trust himself to not screw it up. Because Louis is in love with him, maybe as much as Harry loves Louis. He needs to say something, but there’s nothing in his head. His limbs feel weak. He doesn’t know what to do, and that’s when Louis starts to panic, because of course he does, because he’s Louis, because he is everything Harry has ever wanted, and because although Louis pretends to be the bravest lion in the world, he still gets scared of rejection, still gets scared about not being liked, and still gets scared about his voice. And Harry is so, so in love with him.

“Harry. Oh, God, I'm _so_ sorry, I should go, _no_ , I _need_ to go. I can’t. Please. _Harry_. Oh, God, oh God. I ruin everything, I ruin _everything_ , I ruined El and I, I ruined us, everything good that’s given to me I _ruin_ it. I just. I can’t, please, oh. I just. Please. Harry. _Say something_.” He’s so sweet, face open and honest, lips shaking with tears, chest heaving with panic.

Harry manages, somehow, to move his hand to press into Louis’s naked thigh, manages to pull him closer, manages to rub circles into Louis’ tan skin. It’s winter. He’s so gorgeous. Harry is _so_ in love.

“I love y’too but,” he begins, and Louis starts shaking even harder, tears start racing down his face, lip starts trembling, and why is he – _oh_. Harry forgot to finish his sentence. It must sound like a _rejection_ , because Louis’s pulling away- _Louis’s pulling away_. Harry can’t, cannot, will not _ever_ have that.

“No, _wait,_ nuh! Nooo, Louis, nuhhh. I love you, too. So much. Very much a lot. So big. Like, a universe. I love you. But. I wanted. T’tell ya first. C’mere. Wanna, er, hug you. Please.” Harry is babbling. He is incoherent and babbling and Louis is staring, tears running down his face even as he jumps onto Harry’s limp, pliant body, heaves sobs into the crook of his neck.

“ _Never_ do that again, fuck, Haz. Please, you scared the shit out of me, please. Love you _so_ much.” Louis presses small kisses to Harry’s collarbone, and Harry can’t stop smiling, lips curved up dopily.

“It was. _Your_ fault. You _sat_ on my _face_ ; couldn’t breathe. Under oxy- oxo- oxi- not enough air. Liked it! Feel fuzzy.” He nuzzles into Louis’ hair, and Louis chokes out an awed laugh, before sucking a dark mark into Harry’s skin, and Harry groans, head beginning to get hazy again. He’s always liked it a bit rough, likes it even better when it’s Louis. Likes everything a bit better when Louis’s involved.

“You’re so dumb. Let’s sleep. Love you.”

“Ya-huh. Love you, too. Nice bum.”

And if Harry falls asleep to the feeling of Louis gently grinding back onto his spent cock, then he’s never fallen asleep happier.

And if he wakes up to a smiling Louis pressing kisses to his forehead, then he knows. He knows he's more in love with this boy than he's ever been in love with anything.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://seetheson.tumblr.com/)


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